I mean –a love story is just a love story. But add some robots, and you got me. You got me.
Category: Words
Prose, poetry and essays
Art as a visceral feeling; and other rambling thoughts
Again, change –the art, me, you.
Words I carry (to read when I’m sober)
A peril of going through the internet; you change. It rattles around the head.
Seven breakfasts (and the logistics of laundry)
This is what I do on Sundays, or thereabouts.
My 2020 in art.
The struggle to search for meaning. It’s 2020. There’s art.
The last piece I wrote in 2020
I think it’s incomplete.
but didn’t i promise to fall in love
These letters, like this promise, is not for you.
Filters in development
This time last year I was bawling my eyes out in a public restroom.
Art: Glass hearts do not break like real ones do (2018)
I was born with an extremely rare and incurable disease…
s:
\ ΛsmΔ«(-Ι)l \
